


Negotiation

by orphan_account



Category: Villainous (Cartoon)
Genre: Blowjobs, Implied/Referenced Past Abuse, M/M, Praise Kink, also black hat is mexican and multilingual in this one folks, cause here i am ready to deliver, did somebody say non-abusive paperhat, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-11-04 10:24:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10989003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "You don't have to intimidate me in order to gain my loyalty, Mister Black Hat. I'm... I'm yours."Dr. Flug is tired of being pushed around. Black Hat makes him an offer he can't refuse.





	Negotiation

**Author's Note:**

> Just some paperhat for the soul. 
> 
> Alternatively titled "Dr. Flug Finds His Confidence And Gets Some Head Along The Way"

"I'm leaving."

The words leave Flug's mouth with more confidence than he's ever possessed. Not a crack in his voice; every syllable is unwavering. The scariest thing is, Black Hat doesn't react. He doesn't even _blink_ , just simply stares at Dr. Flug with an eerily calm expression. Every second that passes causes Flug's heart to hammer harder in his chest until he can feel it pounding wildly in his throat. After a good thirty seconds passes, the doctor coughs and attempts to speak again.

And that's when he notices the vein throbbing in Black Hat's neck, sees his left eye twitching wildly from behind its monocle, and feels the sudden, violent urge to empty his stomach's contents. When Black Hat finally speaks, the words are uttered in a low octave Flug never knew existed; his voice is the sound of two concrete slabs scraping together at a painfully slow speed:

"You're... _what."_

The words are venom, spat at him in a deadpan cold as ice. Flug flinches instinctively, drumming his fingers together as he stammers out, "y-you heard me, Mister-" _No,_ he thinks, _you don't have to refer to him as that anymore-_ "er, you heard me, Black Hat. I've decided you don't get to push me around anymore. I quit." 

He swallows, feeling a weight being slowly lifted from his chest. "I've been thinking about quitting for awhile now, too. Since... since the first day on the job? Yeah, that sounds about right." His paper bag rustles loudly as he reaches to rub the back of his neck. "So, that's it, I suppose. You'll have to find someone else to be your underling, Black Hat. We're through."

The more he talks, Flug realizes, the easier it is to say what's on his mind. It'd be a whole lot easier, however, if Black Hat weren't watching him the way a cobra eyes its prey. 

Another eye twitch. "Is that _so,_ Dr. Flug?" he asks.

"Y-yes. It is," Flug confirms, squaring his shoulders, "and to make it official..." He shrugs off his lab coat with trembling hands, shivering at the cold air that grips his bare arms. Taking a few cautious steps toward Black Hat, Flug presents him with his garment, arms outstretched in front of him like a child afraid of a vicious dog.

Black Hat stares blankly at the material in his hands. Slowly, his gaze travels from the lab coat to Flug, and something sinister flashes in his eyes that makes the scientist's skin crawl.

"Oh," Black Hat begins, and Dr. Flug feels his throat close up at the sight of the man's claws burning _holes_ into the coat, eating away at the material until nothing remains. "Oh, but Dr. Flug, my ever-subservient _moron_ , you _can't_ leave."

Dr. Flug feels his face flush at the words, and _glory,_ it's hot under that paper bag. His hands ball into fists at his sides. "Of _course_ I can! I'm not your..." The word "slave" flashes through his mind and he gulps, shaking it from his head, "I'm my own person! You're not the boss of me anymore!"

Let the records show, Flug cares about Black Hat. It's the reason why he spent so many sleepless nights hunched over a table, tinkering at devices "guaranteed" to cause mass destruction and havoc. Inventing was his passion, of course, but so was pleasing Black Hat. The look on his boss's face, wild with crazed excitement and enthusiasm, never failed to fill Flug with a sense of pride in his work, and a twinge of affection toward the villain. Give a Black Hat a ray gun and he'll act as giddy as a kid in a candy store. It was almost adorable.

Yet, it wasn't healthy. In _no_ way was it healthy, and Dr. Flug had come to realize that. Over the past year he'd become Cerberus's chew toy, nothing but a pawn in Black Hat's game. And, well, as much as he admired Black Hat, he valued his own self-worth more. So he woke up that morning, threw on his goggles and paper bag, and stared at his reflection in the mirror, a mantra on his tongue: "Today's the day today the day today's the day."

The unnerving grin on Black Hat's face makes Flug reconsider the statement. 

_"Mi querido idiota,"_ Black Hat croons lowly, and oh _no_ , he's striding over to Dr. Flug, removing his top hat with the flick of a wrist (he's wearing a second hat underneath somehow, perhaps for comedic effect). In one swift motion he pulls a sheet of paper from the first hat and dons it back atop his head. Flug blinks, and in an instant Black Hat's hand is grabbing at his chin through the paper bag, forcing his head toward the paper. "Read," commands Black Hat, and Dr. Flug's eyes quickly scan the paper. _"Aloud_ , you fool! Let me hear you say it."

"'I, Dr. Flug, hereby agree to work under the supreme reign of the famously infamous Black Hat on the following terms and conditions...'" Flug rambles off the long list, occasionally glancing up at Black Hat, who nods at the words in hierarchial approval. "'...until my time as head scientist is cut short by the following forseen and/or unforseen accidents...'" Another list. _Crippling disfigurement due to freak chemical explosion. Eventual loss of sanity. Land-shark attack._

Black Hat loosens his grip on Dr. Flug's chin. "And _whose_ name is written on that dotted line?" he asks, voice candy-coated in rat poison. 

"M-mine."

"Ah. So I see." Black Hat smiles coldly. "And the little asterisk there, at the bottom of the page... what is written next to it?"

""This contract legally binds the undersigned as property of Black Hat... for life,'" Dr. Flug finishes. The hammering in his chest has returned, tears threatening to fall. Black Hat releases his grip on his face and pulls away with a triumphant smirk, pocketing the contract. 

"Awh, don't look so down!" Black Hat clamps a hand on Dr. Flug's shoulder and squeezes possessively. "You're a valuable asset to our team! A crucial part of the Black Hat Family- we need you! And," his voice drops another octave again, sharp claw dragging along the sensitive skin of Flug's jugular, "I am _very_ certain you need me. Am I wrong?"

Flug shivers, swallowing hard. "N-no," he manages.

 _"¡Excelente!"_ Black Hat shoves Flug from his grasp, snickering as he watches the scientist stumble over his own feet, attempting to gain balance. "So," Black Hat begins, in a voice that challenges Flug to defy him, "I assume, Dr. Flug, that you will be returning to your quarters?" 

Dr. Flug almost says yes. Almost-

"Not until we make a deal, Black Hat."

-but he doesn't. 

Black Hat blinks at the response, before his lips curl into an irritated snarl. "And _what_ might that be?" he demands, his voice a distorted growl. 

An idea takes root in Flug's mind, and maybe, _just_ maybe, Black Hat is naïve enough to take the bait. "Well, uh... your insults, sir- Mister Black Hat- they're impeccable, really," he begins.

"Mmmmm?"

"Yes! S-so good, in fact, that they... they distract me from work! Yeah, I can't concentrate on making the world's greatest villain the world's greatest evil inventions if I'm constantly thinking of how simply _irreproachable_ you are every time you derogate me! Remember last week, when I accidentally mistook Dementia's nail polish remover as elixir and nearly blew up the entire house? What was it you called me, sir?"

"A brainless, good-for-nothing, bag-headed moron." Black Hat folds his arms across his chest, listening intently. 

"See? It was great!" Dr. Flug chokes out, grinning behind his paper bag. "S-so, in conclusion, I believe if you treat me with a little more respect, Mister Black Hat, you'll find I'll be able to produce even _better_ inventions with much more promising results!" 

Black Hat regards Flug with a twitching smirk that soon turns into a low, rumbling chuckle. _That's good, right?_ Flug thinks pleadingly to himself. _Oh, for the love of God, please let that be a good thing-_

"Dr. Flug," Black Hat purrs, smirk widening, "I believe you take me for a fool." 

_It's not a good thing it is **not** a good thing-_

And then suddenly Flug is on the floor, Black Hat's legs on either side of his lithe body. One clawed hand reaches for his wrists, pinning them above his head, the other dips into the paper bag to caress his face.

"Flug, you imbecile." Black Hat grins down at Dr. Flug through half-lidded eyes, and the sight alone is almost enough to make Flug cream his pants. "If you want my respect, flattery is _not_ the way to win me over." His nails dig into Flug's wrists and momentarily the scientist forgets the fact that it's supposed to hurt. 

"I-is that so?" he squeaks.

Black Hat's hands release Flug's wrists to curl around the collar of his T-shirt instead. "Mmm, yes," he says lowly, "I'm sure you'll find me a much more agreeable man, Dr. Flug, if you convince me in a way that is more... physical."

Flug is speechless. Thank God for the paper bag on his head, because he's having trouble steadying his breathing. His most private fantasies are unraveling right before his eyes, and he finds it hard to grasp hold of the situation. 

"So, Dr. Flug? What is the verdict?" Black Hat questions, red light from the stained glass window glinting mischeivously off of his monocle. "Will I be hearing a yes?"

"You... you promise you'll treat me better?" Flug asks, raising himself to a more upright position. He stares Black Hat down, and there's that confidence again, the realization that he'd rather, well... he'd rather die than be treated like a wad of gum on the sole of Black Hat's shoe. 

Black Hat holds his stare, brows narrowed. He's challenging Flug to look away, but the scientist narrows his eyes right back. " You don't have to intimidate me in order to gain my loyalty, Mister Black Hat. I'm... I'm yours."

"Mine," Black Hat repeats, and the satisfied smirk that crosses his features is- well, it's hot, to say the least, not unnerving. He leans down and grabs Flug's arms, pinning them on either side of his head, and buries his head in the crook of Flug's neck. "Say that again, Dr. Flug."

Flug inhales. "Yours," he gasps, "I'm yours."

"Wonderful." Black Hat pulls away with a sly grin. "I accept your deal. But first-" His hands free Flug's arms and his fingers curl around the bottom of the bag that covers his head. 

"You can't!" blurts Dr. Flug, jerking upright with a start, and Black Hat raises a brow quizzically. "I-I mean, please, please don't, sir. Not now, at least. Not yet." He isn't ready to reveal his face, one of his biggest insecurities. He wears the paper bag so much it's become a part of who he is, and although kissing Black Hat would be like some sort of glorious fever dream, he can't bring himself to remove it. 

Black Hat lifts himself into a sitting position, frowning down at the scientist in thought. To Dr. Flug's relief, the man shrugs. "Very well then, Flug. Another time, perhaps. In the meantime..." He ruts his hips against Flug's, delicious friction causing him to whimper. 

He lets Black Hat mark him, ravish him, do whatever the hell he wants to do to him at this point. They're on the floor in the center of the foyer- anyone could easily walk in at any moment. What would Flug say? _I-It's not what you think, I swear- he's just torturing me! Like he normally does!_

__

Which wouldn't be a total lie. Black Hat's knee is digging into his raging hard on while he sucks at Flug's neck like a fucking leech, and damn it all if that isn't torture. 

__

"Sir," Dr. Flug pants out, and he can tell from the way Black Hat scowls down flusteredly at him that his boss gets off from the title. "Sir, I want to..." Flug's hands scramble for Black Hat's crotch.

__

Black Hat recoils, sputtering. "You only touch me when I _say_ you can touch me!" he shouts, voice echoing off of the walls, and the anger in his tone shoots fear down Flug's spine. There's a pause, and Black Hat growls and forces out a softer, "er... _please._ Touching, it's something I do not have fond memories of. You will forgive me if I do not want your hands on me right away."

__

Flug nods quickly, not wanting to press things any further. And as Black Hat's hands venture under the scientist's shirt, Dr. Flug realizes Black Hat has vulnerabilities, just like him. It's one of the few things that makes him remotely human. The thought is reassuring. 

__

Black Hat slides a hand down to cup Flug's bulge through his jeans, and all thoughts immediately leave his head.

__

"Would you like me to take care of this?" he asks with a hum, and Flug nods vigorously, swallowing back a needy whine. Black Hat stares down at him, gaze hardening. "Speak."

__

"God, yes!" Flug pleads desperately. "Please, sir, I want you."

__

"You _need_ me," Black Hat corrects him, giving Flug's erection a firm squeeze.

__

"I ne _-eeeed_ you," Flug moans, back arching off of the carpet as his body chases Black Hat's touch. His breath is labored, vision hazy. He gazes through his goggles at Black Hat with half lidded eyes. A strangled groan escapes his lips as he feels Black Hat unzip his jeans, shoving them down to his knees and tugging at his briefs slightly, revealing pale white, freckled hipbones.

__

Black Hat drags his nails down the scientist's exposed skin. His gaze snaps to Flug, a dirty grin on his lips. "Tell me, Dr. Flug, does this match any of your fantasies of me? Have you replayed this moment over and over again in your mind, wishing you had the real thing?"

__

Flug's cock twitches at the words and he nods silently. It's everything he ever wanted and more- never in his life did he ever think Black Hat would willingly suck him off. But here he is now, squirming underneath Black Hat as he lets him slide his briefs from off his hips and free his achingly hard dick. 

__

And then there is a long, pregnant pause that follows. Flug suddenly doesn't want to glance down. Maybe the whole situation is a sick joke meant to demean him, and Flug is the punchline. Dementia is probably watching from the security monitors in his lab, cackling at what a hopeless, lovestruck fool he is. It'd be best to end things now, before Flug ends up the laughingstock of their organization. Summoning all his strength (which isn't a lot), Flug forces his eyes downward. 

__

Black Hat is gazing down at him with an unreadable expression. There's no amusement on his face, no signs of bad intent. _"Que lindo,"_ he murmurs absently. Something akin to hunger flashes in his eyes. He lowers his head, eyes flitting upward to meet Flug's, and the scientist's heart forgets how to beat momentarily. 

__

"Eyes on me," Black Hat orders lowly, and slowly drags his tongue along the underside of Flug's dick. Flug trembles, digging his fingers into the red carpet beneath him. Black Hat swipes his thumb along his head, coating his digits with pre-cum before working his fingers up and down the shaft with slow precision.

__

Dr. Flug inhales sharply, tilting his head back with a drawn-out whine. "Oh, _sir,"_ he groans. "Please, more, I need more of you." And without warning, wet heat envelops the head of his dick, and it's all Flug can do not to faint at the feeling of Black Hat's serpentine tongue tantalizing him. 

__

Black Hat mumbles around his length- something along the lines of _"tan necesitado-"_ and then he's bobbing his head, sucking Flug off with the expertise and sexual prowess of someone who's done this a million times and then some. Black Hat's eyes are locked dead onto Flug's as he pulls off with a lewd 'pop!' and laps at the scientist's tip. 

__

"Black Hat, sir..." Dr. Flug begins rambling like a Catholic in a confessional, now unable to control neither the erratic thrusts of his hips nor the litany of words that escape his lips as Black Hat begins pumping him once more. "You're so good to me, sir, s _-so_ good..."

__

Black Hat hums in approval, snaking one hand down his own pants to jerk himself. The thought of him touching himself to Flug is enough to make Flug lightheaded.

__

"Look at you," Black Hat murmurs huskily, and suddenly the roles are switched, and there is no longer any doubt in Flug's mind that this isn't a joke, because now Black Hat is _praising_ him, "look at you, spread out in front of me so shamelessly. I can't say I haven't imagined this in my head either, Dr. Flug. Such a sickeningly lovely thing you are."

__

And before Flug can warn him he's cumming, moaning out his boss's name in falsetto as his body shakes in the toe-curling throes of orgasm. Release spurts from his cock in thin ropes, splattering onto the bare skin of his stomach and the front of Black Hat's suit. Black Hat grunts, quickening his pace at the sight, and cums not long after. Flug watches with wide eyes, panting heavily. He doesn't know whether he heard correctly, but he could _swear_ he heard his name on Black Hat's lips when he came. 

__

Flug wipes himself with his T-shirt, grimacing. He stares flusteredly at the ground as he fixes himself. "Mister Black Hat, ah, that was-" 

__

"Disgusting," Black Hat interrupts. Dr. Flug's blood runs cold and his eyes snap upward. Black Hat is glaring down at the front of his now-soiled suit with disdain. 

__

"Oh!" Flug's eyes widen. "S-sorry, sir, I'll- I'll get a-" he swivels his head around, desperately searching for something to clean the suit. 

__

Black Hat stands, wiping at his shirt. "You'll make me a new one," he says resolutely. He pauses, glancing down at Flug. "That won't be a _problem,_ will it?" 

__

"N-no! No problem at all!" Flug chirps. 

__

"Wonderful." The villain straightens his top hat and turns to leave. "I'll leave you to it, then." There's a pause. "And I'm expecting a suit of great magnitude from such a skilled scientist like yourself, Dr. Flug," Black Hat adds, voice softer than usual, before exiting the room. 

__

Upon hearing the compliment, Flug almost cums a second time.

__

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for the read! Reviews are appreciated. Here are some translations for all you non-Spanish speakers out there:
> 
>  _"Mi querido idiota-"_ My dear idiot  
>  _"¡Excelente!"_ Excellent!  
>  _"Que lindo-"_ How pretty  
>  _"Tan necesitado-"_ So needy
> 
> Please correct me if there are any mistakes! While I am Latino myself, I don't live with any Spanish speaking relatives, and am not very skilled at the language myself, so if something is incorrect please feel free to let me know :)
> 
> My Tumblr: byebyeluly


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